


Captivated

by Trialia



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Episode: s04e04 Escape Velocity, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trialia/pseuds/Trialia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura finds a way to make herself feel better about certain things. [Contains bondage. Revised slightly.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captivated

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by Naomi (missfoxie). Originally published 5th May 2008; revised slightly 28th June 2013, this version only (so far).

It's almost 0400 by the time his CIC shift ends; it's been a long night. He gets back to his - _their_ \- quarters to find Laura has wisely chosen not to wait up for him. She doesn't always. She used to, but they've agreed, after long discussion, that her sleep these days is more important to both of them than her being awake when he gets home. Now that they're effectively living together, they see more of each other than ever before, in more ways than one.

She's curled on her side in his bed, fast asleep and breathing quietly. The soft black headscarf she wears at night is down over her forehead, tied behind one ear, and he can see where the fabric's frayed a little at the ends. The sight tugs at his heart as he stands there, watching her in the dim lamplight. He misses her hair almost as much as she does, but he's careful not to let her know that.

She's still beautiful without it, anyway.

As quietly as he can, he undresses, turns out the light and crawls in beside her. He drops off fairly quickly; it was a long shift, and he won't be on call again until noon.

When he begins to dream, some time later, it's of Laura.

He thinks of her beautiful smile, an edge of something more to it; of the look in her lovely green eyes.

Her lips brush his, light as a feather, before drifting down to his throat and upper chest. He can feel something tickle his unshaven chin ever so slightly, and he squirms a little against the sensation.

He can smell her, hear her, feel her moving above him. _My Laura._

The feeling of her skin on his is something he'll never grow tired of, he knows, not even in his dreams. He feels the smooth softness of her breasts rub against his chest; hears her moan a little, probably, he thinks, at the feel of his chest hair against her nipples: he knows she's always loved that feeling.

He wants to touch her, but somehow he doesn't know where his hands are. There are pins and needles in his fingers; he moves his arms to find out why, and realises that he can't move them far enough: they're restrained with a soft material, somewhere near his head.

It's with that thought he comes awake to find that having his eyes closed in sleep was not the only reason he can't see a thing.

Laura is hovering over him; he can smell her arousal, strong and warm, and he senses her there, her slender frame supported, somehow, inches above his body. He can hear her breathing grow increasingly more ragged, as his speeds up to match her. He _has_ been blindfolded: by the feel of it, the blindfold is one of her last few pairs of good nylon stockings; the restraint, her headscarf.

This is new to him: they haven't done this before, though they've talked about it and he'd made it clear he wasn't opposed to the idea. So he won't tear the makeshift blindfold away; she has only a handful left, and besides, he's learned from trying to unfasten her scarf for the fortnightly wash just how good her knots are. She's secretive about where she learned to tie them.

Instead, he breathes her name.

"Laura?"

He hears her giggle, sensual and light, when she knows he's awake, and groans at the sudden touch of her inner thighs against his waist, the trailing of her fingers over his nipples, and the knowledge of how wet she must be for him to able to feel damp heat over his abdomen, just high enough on his body that he can't quite enter her. All are magnified by his lack of vision.

His hips buck upward, involuntarily, making a brief contact that elicits a moan from her. She pants a little, and a moment later he inadvertently mimics her previous reaction as she lowers herself to slide over his erection from root to tip; the sound is almost a howl and he is drowning, lost in sensation. He groans her name.

"Laura, please. Let me touch you..."

She relents, unfastening the knots that bind his hands, though not the blindfold. He reaches for it; she stops him with a hand over his wrist.

"Please, leave it on?"

He makes a little noise of frustration.

"Laura, I want to _see_ you." His voice is deepened by lust, and he turns his hand to hold hers. She feels so small when he can't see her.

She says nothing for a moment, rocking her hips slightly over his, breathing hard. After a second or two she speaks.

"All right."

He shoves a hand under the stockings that cover his eyes and pushes them up, over his hair and away. They tug a bit on the way, but he couldn't care less.

She's breathtaking, even with the new hints of fragility about her form; his eyes close just briefly before he leans up to slip both hands up her sides, over the silky skin beneath her breasts, stroking his thumbs up over her nipples and dragging his nails lightly across them to make her moan again. Her hips haven't stopped their circling against his, and he's getting more impatient to be inside her.

She's clearly so ready, he knows he doesn't need to wait any longer. His gaze meets hers as she tips her head back, eyes half-closed; before he can move she takes him in hand and slides, with agonizing slowness, down onto his length.

"Gods," she groans, and "Laura," he whispers, captivated by the sight, the sound, the scent, the feel and as he lowers his head to her neck and thrusts up into her body, the taste of her.

_This is everything._


End file.
